It Never Stops
by Wijida
Summary: Not really R, I imagine, but suggestive. Not suggestive in NC-17 manner, though. It's a response to a challenge fic from the Graveshift...


**Disclaimer**: CSI belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS...

It Never Stops

By Manda

            "Move it this way." 

            "Why?"

            "When the sun rises and the moon sets, do you ever ask _it_ why?" Catherine Willows placed her hands on her hips and shook her head, a cascade of reddish-blond ringlets showering her tanned, freckled shoulders. The tangerine bikini she wore revealed shoulders, back, stomach, and finely toned leg muscles...and as he watched her, it occured to Gil Grissom that he didn't _need_ the sun, as long as she continued the status quo.

            "Not typically, no...but it all depends on the circumstances."

            "Such as?"

            "If the sun rose, and we weren't making love while it did so." He kissed her gently, and her lightly glossed lips curved into a smile.

            "You still have to move the sofa."

            "And again, Catherine...why am I moving a sofa? Particularly this sofa?"

            "Taking a vacation in a bed and breakfast was your idea, Grissom..and if you're expecting us to make love, passionately or otherwise...we're going to do it on a couch within view of the ocean. I didn't ask for a room with a view for nothing. And besides, darling," Her smile grew wider as she moved toward the veranda, pulling open the french doors to allow the salty breeze entrance. "You'd probably throw out your back moving the bed."

            "I'll throw out _your_ back." 

            "Beware...the ideas of March."

            "No, no, sweetheart...that's 'Beware the _Ides_ of March'. Ides. Sort of like ideas...but without the 'a'."

            "Eat you, Brutay."

            "No...again, sweetheart...it's _Et tu, Brute_. Brew-tay..." Catherine sighed good-naturedly, rolling onto her stomach as Grissom continued to incorrectly spout quotations. "I'm beginning to rue the day I found that book in the bedside table. Whomever had this room before us...didn't know you'd be here. And who knew...that alcohol and Shakepeare never should mix?"

            "I'm sure they mixed all the time, Catherine...or he may never have finished the majority of his work." 

            "And speaking of..." Catherine slipped out from beneath the covers which the two had so hastily pulled onto the couch, and began to dress hurriedly. "Damn it, Gil...if you hadn't wrinkled my _only_ clean sundress."

            "You look beautiful."

            "And you look naked," She retorted. "We're going to show up at the karaoke bar with clothing, Gil Grissom...I won't have a repeat of the last time we made it out of bed."

            "Off the couch."

            "Fine. The last time we made it off the couch...if I recall, you weren't only drunk, but forgot your pants, and wore your crotchless thong...which I _told _you to leave at home."

            "And if I recall...we didn't make it to the...whatever we were going to."

            "My sister's wedding."

            "Your sister's wedding, then." He rose and began to dress, himself, open collar shirt sporting a crocodile upon a sea-green cotton weave. "Catherine...your sister wasn't upset."

            "Good for you, she wasn't. If it hadn't just been the rehearsal..." 

            "We'd better get going."

            "You're not wearing any..." She glanced down at him, appraisingly, and arched one slender eyebrow. "Gil Grissom...you told me you left those at home."

            "The satin ones, yes...but not the panda-print."

            ~~~

            "He's only 200..."

            "In dog years, Grissom. Lay off the tequila..._please_. If you say that to his face...I swear I'll take our room, and you can spend the next 4,513 hours roaming the streets of greater Miami."

            "As long as I don't..." He paused, as Catherine launched into the crowds, teardrop-printed sundress blending neatly with the warm-weather clothing choices of many of Miami's finest. "Feel the need to have wild, passionate sex."

            "And if you do..." A husky voice behind him alerted the semi-sober Grissom, and he spun to find a buxom blond hovering near by. "I'm available, sweetheart."

            "No...thank you." He stumbled back, and into Catherine's arms as the birthday party went into full swing, music rising above the ambient gathered voices. "Catherine..."

            "I can't find him." She whispered loudly in his ear, arms wrapped around his chest, fingers dancing suggestively upon it. "And you know how impatient I get."

            "You were impatient to get down here."

            "And if Patrick didn't owe me five hundred dollars, I wouldn't have bothered."

            "Five hundred..."

            "Grissom...rolling in the hay...especially Miami hay...is never cheap. He knew that when he proposed..."

            "Proposed..."

            "That I spend a week with him in his hotel suite, so he could fall in love with me and have his way whenever he liked it." She peered steadily into his not-so-steady gaze, and chuckled softly. "And if you weren't so drunk, I'd feel bad for you. Patrick is my cousin...and he owes me five hundred for the down payment on my grandmother's condominum." 

            "That explains it."

            "What?"

            "Why anyone..." She escorted him out of the room, into the elevator, and they leaned, together, against a wall. "...would spend five hundred dollars..."

            "_Grissom_..."

            "When I'd max out my credit card...and steal the Hope Diamond...to have one roll in the hay, or on a carpet...or in a barn...with you."

            "Grissom..."

            "Yes, Catherine?"

            "Can you reach the 'stop' button?"

            "We're standing up...we both can reach it."

            "Not for long, lover-bug."

            ~~~

            "We owe these people more money for damages than we do room, board, and room-service, Catherine."

            "And you expect...what out of me? You've already gotten plenty..."

            "And the added bonus of a Yung Dynasty vase breaking as we rolled over it...shards jamming into my stomach...and the hotel doctor forced to remove them without asking _how."_

_            "_Self-explanatory." Catherine shrugged, shuffling thin sheets of paper between her fingers as she read the words printed neatly upon them. "I don't suppose I could leave them an IOU for a favor or two, the next time we're in...__

_            "_We _could_ leave them a CD of Catherine Willows' greatest hits." Grissom suggested, reaching across her stomach to press 'play' on the bedside CD player.

            _"When you feel all alone_

_            And the world has turned it's back on you_

_            Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart_

_            I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you_

_            It's hard to find relieve and people can be so cold_

_            When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't take anymore..."_

"Do you derive a certain joy out of making me relive that?" Catherine's fingers began their slow ascent up his chest, and Grissom shuddered. 

            "If you keep doing that to me, I do."

            "Ohh...wise guy, I see."

            "They do say that my gray hair makes me seem wiser."

            "They do, do they? Ahh, Mr. Grissom...I don't know if they were referring to the grey hair up here, or the grey hair down _here_..." Her fingers began to twist his chest hair gently, "But if they're referring to this batch...I'd say that wiser is definitely _sexier._"

            _"_Sexier." And he knew, by the twinkle in her eye, what she was leading to. "Catherine...if we're going to get at it again..."

            "Yes..."

            "Then I'd suggest you give me a minute to put on one of these." He held up a crinkling, violet-cellophane wrapped package, which Catherine gazed at curiously, her eyes skimming the fine print.

            "Grissom?"

            "Yes, Catherine?"

            "If you expect me to have sex with anyone wearing a condom which advertises itself as being 'spifferific'...then you've got another thing coming, Lover-bug." And with that, she bore him to the mattress.

-The End__


End file.
